At dusk, I felt the cold hands of harmattan,
Inside mom's kitchen, she told
a story of a man from town,
Was he really from town?,
Funny, the white man's a
Clown;
As children, we wanted African
tales,
Mom told a story, it penetrated our
Veins,
A Blackman sold his son for
a pipe,
Who does that?, He is a
Wicked type;
An African woman sold her
daughter for an ironware,
Leaving her husband without a
heir,
Africa is pregnant, are you
aware?,
The birds snatches her baby
before it touches the earth;
They conquered, but they
Forgot something vital,
They plundered, but they
Forgot something special,
Happiness, yes happiness,
I admire the cuteness
Africa
Emmanuel Shadrach
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 08/23/2020
Poet's note: A poem of lost glory, bad past and stolen virtue.
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Poem topics: africa, baby, children, daughter, funny, husband, son, woman, earth, white, special, vital, cold, admire, kitchen, happiness, mom, I love you, I miss you, town, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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